Mara and Mrs. Hunter were pallid indeed, but calm in woman's patient fortitude, remembering, too, even in that awful moment, that if they escaped they would owe their lives to one whom they regarded with scorn and hostility. Ella's hope buoyed her spirit, although she felt herself sinking deeper every moment in the cold waters. With love's confidence she believed that Houghton would be equal to the emergency, and his swiftly coming sail was like the white wings of an angel. Then for an instant she was perplexed and troubled, for he seemed to be steering as if to pass them, near, yet much too far. "She'm sinkin', she'm goin' un'er," the negro yelled. "Be ready, every one, to jump the moment I lay alongside," Houghton shouted. Then he luffed sharply to the wind, dropped his sail; his light craft lost headway, and glided alongside of the sinking boat. "Now jump, all," he cried. The women and negro did so and were safe, but the crippled veteran failed, fell backward, and would have dragged Ella, who held his hand, with him, had not Houghton broken her grasp. As quick as light he sprang into the vessel, now down to the water's edge, and fairly flung the captain into his own boat. As he did so the water-logged craft went down, and he with it. Ella shrieked and called his name imploringly. In the wild anguish of the moment she would have jumped overboard after him had she not been restrained. "Patience," cried her father, "he will rise in a moment." Houghton's little boat, now so heavily freighted, had almost gone under in the suction. The negro, rendered half wild with terror, was bent only on saving his own life. He was scarcely in the boat before he had the oars in the rowlocks, and began to pull for the shore. In their eager scanning of the dark water, Bodine and the others did not notice this at first, and when they did the negro was deaf to their expostulations and threats. The captain tried to reach him as he heaped maledictions on his head, but at that instant another squall swooped down, enshrouding them in spray, and nearly swamping their frail vessel. They sat silent and trembling, expecting Houghton's fate, but the gust passed finally, and the lights of the city gleamed out. "Now put about, you--coward," thundered Bodine. "No, sah, neber," replied the negro; "de boat swamp in two mi nit if I put 'bout in dis sea." The veteran began to crawl toward him to compel obedience. The man shouted: "Stop dat ar. Ef you comes nigher I hit you wid'n oar. Bettah one drown dan we all drown." Ella gave a despairing cry, and found oblivion in a deathlike swoon. "Truly, Captain Bodine," said Mrs. Hunter sternly, "you must keep your senses. If the man is right, and we have every reason to believe he is, you must not throw away all our lives for the chance of saving one." Then she, with Mara, gave all her attention to Ella.